


Necessity (The Lion Taming Remix)

by tielan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Friendship (kind of), Gen, Interaction, Maria Hill isn't paid enough for this shit, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1253008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Maria Hill had to deal with naked Avengers, and one time the Avengers had to deal with a naked Maria Hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessity (The Lion Taming Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Optional](https://archiveofourown.org/works/437142) by [legete](https://archiveofourown.org/users/legete/pseuds/legete). 



Maria Hill gets her reputation for having balls of steel while she’s still a junior agent.

* * *

Deputy Director Boyle orders Maria to be present in the room when the medical examination of Natasha Romanoff first takes place.

Maria lodged her protests, but Deputy Director Boyle is ambitious and self-satisfied, and not inclined to hear the reasoning of a mere junior agent, no matter how solid her service record, or how considered her arguments.

“She’s a prisoner of S.H.I.E.L.D, Agent Hill. Even remanded herself into Barton’s custody. And while she’s sedated is the best time to do all this.”

“Sir, she sedated _herself—_ ”

“And she’s intelligent enough to guess that we’d take the opportunity when it arises.” Boyle eyes her with the pleasant dislike she’s endured since the day she first rose high enough to be noticed by the Deputy Director. “Since you’re so concerned, Hill, you can stand in and observe. I’ll put you down as the agent on record.”

Maria fumes, but obeys. And then realises that Dr Harris is the lead medic for the examination and that he's requested Romanoff be stripped naked. For scientific study, of course. Maria's protests are dismissed with the smiling paternalism - she should stick with shooting people and leave medical examinations to the medical personnel.

And so, when the Black Widow wakes up from the sedative she self-administered - and so would have a good idea just how long she would be out - finds herself naked and takes offense to being handled by the S.H.I.E.L.D biogeneticists, Maria Hill is present in the room.

Within thirty seconds, the room is full of six bruised and broken medical and security personnel, and Maria has her back against the wall and her hands spread wide to indicate that she’s not a threat.

She has no doubt that Romanoff can easily put the syringe she’s wielding through Maria’s eye without even concentrating. She’s just hoping Romanoff _won’t_.

The Black Widow looks at her. The stance doesn’t change, but the head tilts. “You’re not going to attack?”

The question verges on the edge of mockery.

“I’d be stupid to try.”

Romanoff is a weapon, naked or clothed, from the crown of her red head to her long, dancer’s toes. Maria is considered reasonably good at hand-to-hand, but there’s no way she’s good enough to go up against the Widow.

“And you’re never stupid?”

“It’s Tuesday. I try to be less stupid on Tuesdays.”

The lovely face twitches with faint humour. “So, what happens now?”

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

Romanoff is a product of the Red Room, brought up and trained to kill a person as easily as she breathes. Yes, she’s a weapon who put herself under S.H.I.E.L.D’s jurisdiction, but Maria’s willing to bet her career it wasn’t to become a test subject.

So she looks one of the world’s deadliest assassins in the eye and gives her what she can.

“You put the syringe down and sit back down in the chair. I’ll talk to people further up the ladder about getting you clothing and a prison cell. We’ll reschedule the medical check, and next time you’ll be conscious and informed.”

The weapon doesn’t waver from the throwing stance. “That’s a lot of promises. Do you have the authority to make them?”

“The question is: Are you willing to find out?”

Later, watching the video, Maria realises the visuals show nothing of what she was feeling as she faced Romanoff down - none of the tension, none of the fear.

The mics aren’t good enough to pick up the audio, so all anyone sees is the two women facing each other off. Then Romanoff puts the syringe down and sits back down in the chair, her eyes never leaving Maria.

Maria makes contact with the outside, stating the terms and conditions before security comes in. She never takes her eyes off Romanoff, and Agent Coulson backs her up with first the Deputy Director and then with Director Fury himself.

For the next six months, her nickname among the Agents is ‘Lion Tamer’.

Maria never thinks that was anything special. In that moment when her gaze met Romanoff's, she knew it was do or die.

Maria prefers to do.

* * *

The apartment reeks of alcohol and sex.

Which goes a long way towards explaining Romanoff's current state of mind.

Maria wrinkles her nose and doesn’t knock on the bedroom door. Instead, she heads for the kitchen, starts up the coffee machine, and rummages through the cupboards and drawers for mugs and spoons that aren’t dirty.

When the bedroom door opens, she doesn’t turn around.

“Where the hell do you keep the creamer?”

“I don’t.” Barton grunts. “What are you doing here, Hill?”

“You’ve got a ticket for a flight that leaves in two hours and your passport is in the pack on the table.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks.” She turns to look at him and blinks.

It’s not that he reached for a gun when he got up. It’s not that he looks about as happy as a hippo with a hernia. It’s not even that he’s naked.

It’s that his balls are blue.

Literally _blue_.

It looks like someone held him face-forward over a vat of dye and dipped him. Maria says ‘dye’ because it doesn’t look like paint – the opacity—

She realises she’s staring at Barton’s balls. He seems to realise it at the same moment. He looks down.

“Shit!”

“Should I ask? I admit, I always thought purple was more your colour, but—”

He about faces back into the bedroom and slams the door shut.

Maria didn’t really expect an explanation, although she kind of rather wants one. _Literal_ blue balls. It’s kind of…appropriate, given the situation.

She makes coffee. There’s no creamer, which means she won’t have any tastebuds, but the coffee is less for her and more for Barton.

When the door opens again, Barton strolls out in trousers and a collared shirt, like a businessman getting ready for his day. He looks her in the eye and dares her to say anything about either his nudity or the colour of his genitals.

Maria knows better than that. She just hands him a mug of coffee, which he slurps noisily for several minutes before finally asking, “So, where’m I headed?”

“Budapest.”

* * *

It doesn’t surprise Maria that Stark Industries PR has a procedure for when Stark does something tabloids-worthy. It _does_ surprise her that the PR team would send ‘the new girl’ out to deal with the situation, armed only with the procedures.

It’s an opportunity she doesn’t plan to forgo, however. S.H.I.E.L.D’s been waiting for this opportunity for the last two weeks – to have it come so soon and so easily is a bonus.

Admittedly Maria’s not the best agent for undercover work since she can’t play parts that are too far removed from herself, but they don’t need either an ingénue or a sex kitten for this work; just someone who can deal with the crises that seem to happen so naturally around Stark – particularly lately – and keep her footing.

Entry into the penthouse is authorised by the passcard she was handed on her way out of the apartment – after JARVIS checks her credentials against his files.

“Sir, the PR representative is here to help you with your…problem,” is the announcement as Maria walks in and takes stock of the room.

“The real one or the rookie?”

And Maria realises why she was sent. Hazing is, apparently, not limited to the Marines. “The rookie.”

“Oh, well, send her in.”

She should probably blush at the sight of Tony Stark, industrialist, Iron Man, and socialite, stark naked in the kitchen of this fancy apartment. It would suit the woman she’s pretending to be.

Maria was never very good at pretending.

A glance over him shows nothing particularly noteworthy. She eyes the ARC reactor in his chest, intrigued by the device that has caused a major rejig in global military circles. Then she looks him in the eye. “You don’t look like you’re in need of help.”

He tilts his head and his gaze gleams in an almost-smile. “That depends on who you talk to. But I do need an extra pair of hands. Come here.”

Maria stays exactly where she is. “What do you need the extra pair of hands _for_ , exactly?”

Stark huffs a little, but has neither shame nor compunction as he holds up a pair of latex gloves. “Things got interesting last night. And things got stuck last night, and now I need help to get 'things' out. Stupid’s too stupid, JARVIS has no hands, and Pepper’s still in Shanghai. You’re it.”

There is no training, no protocol, no procedure for this.

“Mr Stark, might I suggest you call your doctor?”

“I could. But he’s not as pretty as you.”

“He’s _paid_ to remove items from your ass.”

“I’ll pay you to remove it, if that’s what it takes.” Stark wheedles like it’s going out of style. “But I’d prefer it was before Gina the Gorgon actually turns up…”

They turn to look at the entryway as the doorbell sounds.

Stark deflates, his body slumping. “Well, this is going to be less fun than I hoped.”

Later, when justifying her reluctance to Fury, Maria points out that the long-term advantages of not having had her hand up Tony Stark’s ass far outweighs the short-term advantage of having him owe her a favour.

* * *

Thor walks into the briefing room wearing a broad grin.

 _Just_ the grin.

The smirk on Stark’s face would send supervillains into the throes of foaming rage. Maria has better self-control. “I suppose you think this is funny, Stark?”

“On the contrary, Lieutenant. I think it’s _hilarious_.”

* * *

To give Banner his due, he’s getting better at controlling the Other Guy.

It’s not perfect, though, as can be attested by the four hundred yard furrow in Eastern Pennsylvania.

Maria takes the flight because there’s a virus making the rounds of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the Midwest, and none of the north-easters are willing to ferry Banner – or, more correctly, his big green co-habiter – back to New York for debriefing.

Not that he needs debriefing in the garment department since the switch back from Big Green Guy to Small Pink Guy doesn’t come with a clothing change.

Which is how she’s the one standing at the edge of the pit, holding a pair of Banner-sized jeans which she tosses down to the naked man.

“You drew the short straw, Lieutenant?”

Maria turns her back. She, frankly, couldn’t care less, but Banner would be sensitive about that sort of thing. He’s not as soft as he looks with clothes on; although certainly not as ripped as Rogers. Then again, _nobody’s_ as ripped as Rogers. “I think I was the _only_ straw.”

* * *

Maria’s first rule of dealing with an embarrassing situation is never to show that you find it embarrassing. Play it cold and cool, behave as though you have right of way, and manage the damage.

It helps that Rogers is too much the gentleman to look anywhere but her face – although his cheeks are bright scarlet in the chill air of the facility. Natasha’s eyes go cold but she doesn’t say anything – just steps out in the corridor and starts stripping a nearby guard of his clothing.

Maria touches her on the shoulder as Rogers turns towards the intersection and his head lifts like a hunter scenting prey. “No time. Status?”

“May’s bringing in the Quinjet, and Stark’s blowing up the turbines.” Natasha doesn’t ask about what happened or if she’s okay. “Will you manage?”

“Is there multiple choice?” Then, because Maria can hear the question underlying it, and they need to know the answer if only to be able to know how to handle her if things go bad. “They didn’t.”

One more day and she might have run out of luck, but it held this far.

Natasha glances at her, gauging her truthfulness. Maria looks her back, straight in the eye.

Maria has always known the Black Widow only gave way that first day because she was willing to be appeased.

She’s willing to be appeased now. Natasha passes over a S.H.I.E.L.D standard-issue handgun and a spare cartridge. Maria checks the clip on instinct as Rogers reports, “Guards coming. Lieutenant—”

Maria steps sideways, her weapon coming up as her view clears. Their first bullets bounce off the shield – it makes an excellent target draw. She fires back and four guards go down, their mouths gaping, their chests gushing.

“Let’s move out.”

With Rogers’ shield and Natasha’s hand-to-hand skill - to say nothing of her own shooting - they make short work of the incoming troops in the cell block, and for the rest of the move through the facility.

Maria hates every moment of that escape. Not the escape itself, but the vulnerability, the unaccustomed exposure. Even without the chill across her skin, her state of undress is emphasised every time Rogers turns to look at her and then jerks his gaze away. His embarrassment is a small panacea to the gaping wound to her pride, but Maria’s smart enough to take her frustrations out on her enemies, not her allies.

At the exit to the facility, Maria pauses at the door, then tenses as Rogers offers her his shield for cover. It’s meant to be polite, but it’d be better to walk out there naked than to hide coyly behind Captain America’s shield.

“Thanks, but no. It’s not far. I’ll manage.”

And she does, every cold, naked step on the jog to the Quinjet ramp and the people waiting there. Or, in Stark’s case, hovering above it.

“Looking good, Lieutenant!”

Maria ignores him. She nods at Banner, who’s already got his trousers on and is holding out a blanket, but takes the comms set from Barton and settles it on her head first. “Agent May? Are we waiting for anything else?”

“Just you, I believe. It’s good to hear from you, Lieutenant.”

As Maria takes the blanket from Banner with a nod, the soft hum of the engines builds to a whine, and the whine to a full-on roar. Barton heads for the cockpit after gripping her shoulder briefly through the blanket, and Rogers has hooked his shield on his back and isn’t quite confronting Stark as Iron Man strides up the Quinjet ramp.

Maria isn’t about to sit witness to yet another testosterone fight between the two. “Have you blown the facility yet, Stark?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to spit or swallow, Hill.”

Banner chokes. Natasha rolls her eyes. Rogers turns on Stark, about to chew him out for inappropriate behaviour.

Maria interrupts before the two can start their customary cock fight. “Blow the damn facility, Stark. Agent May, get us out of here.”

She stays wrapped in the blanket until they’re well away, listening to the comms chatter, taking Natasha’s updates, blunting Banner’s professional concern.

She waits until they’re well on their way before excusing herself to get dressed. Fury will want a report, and she’d like to be clothed when she has to give it.

But at the helicarrier, Rogers is waiting at the bottom of the ramp as she disembarks, his expression careful and stiff. “Lieutenant.”

“Captain.”

“I’d like to apologise.”

“For rescuing me?”

“For the…embarrassment my presence must have caused you.”

Maria stiffens – was she so obvious? Then realises he’s being polite. And that maybe she didn’t hide her frustration as well as she’d thought. “The apology’s unnecessary. I appreciate the rescue more.”

She moves to walk past him.

“Lieutenant?” Rogers calls her attention back. “What you did – walking out of there like that? That took courage.”

It takes her a moment to answer, her cheeks suddenly as hot as they were cold during the escape. To Maria’s thinking, it was do or die – and she’d rather do. But to have Steve Rogers admire it?

She manages to keep her voice steady, her gaze even. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Captain.”


End file.
